


Trigger

by RetroactiveCon



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Food Issues, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Past Brainwashing, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-23 08:07:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: “I get it,” she says. As soon as he takes the coffee, she runs her chilled hand over his cheek. Anyone else would lose the hand. Since it’s Lisa, he can only glare, knowing she won’t care. “Someone fucked around in that twisted, messed-up head of yours, and you don’t want to admit that they got the better of you. But do you know what won’t help?”“Talking about it?” Leonard ventures. He would rather have every bone in his hand broken one at a time than talk at any length about what the dollmaker did to him.Lisa rolls her eyes. “Self-pity.Youtaught me that. If you’re upset about what happened, find a way to fix it."
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tamuril2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamuril2/gifts).



> This is a sequel to [Beautiful Rag Doll](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21712138), the gist of which is that Barry and Len get captured and brainwashed. This one is significantly darker than Beautiful Rag Doll - I'll include warnings for the chapters as they come up, but heed the story tags!

Leonard spends a week after his kidnapping trying to put it out of mind. This involves, in various forms, stealing the most absurd items he can track down, starting a few too many fights, and sleeping with as many people as will have him in an attempt to distract himself from how sickeningly helpless he was. Mick watches in silent judgment, periodically bails him out of fights, and waits for him to cool off. Lisa isn’t so patient. 

“Lenny. Brother dear. Dearest jerk. I say this with all the love in my glittery heart: _get your shit together.”_

Leonard glares. Last night involved a narrow escape from the Flash and a too-rough fuck to burn off the adrenaline; it’s left him in a crashed, headachy state akin to a hangover. “Good morning to you too, trainwreck.”

Lisa perches beside him and holds out a peace offering of iced coffee. “I get it,” she says. As soon as he takes the coffee, she runs her chilled hand over his cheek. Anyone else would lose the hand. Since it’s Lisa, he can only glare, knowing she won’t care. “Someone fucked around in that twisted, messed-up head of yours, and you don’t want to admit that they got the better of you. But do you know what won’t help?”

“Talking about it?” Leonard ventures. He would rather have every bone in his hand broken one at a time than talk at any length about what the dollmaker did to him. 

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Self-pity. _You_ taught me that. If you’re upset about what happened, find a way to fix it. Hartley will deprogram you if you still have triggers left—”

“He already did.” Leonard remembers very little of it, save a dreamy bliss that still makes him sick to his stomach. He despises being controlled; he shouldn’t find it pleasurable, even when done by a teammate. 

“And did he deprogram Barry?” Lisa’s eyes twinkle. Leonard doesn’t know what she’s thinking, unless perhaps she wants to trigger him while he’s the Flash. Once, the thought of the Flash docile and obedient would have been appealing. Now, remembering how horrific it felt to see the light drain from behind Barry’s eyes, the thought is repulsive. 

“I don’t know. He said he hadn’t then, but it’s been a week.” Leonard hopes that, with such a length of time to accomplish it, Barry has had time to sit and get his triggers removed. 

“Maybe you should catch up to him.” Lisa sips obnoxiously at her coffee, her eyes wide and false-innocent. “After all, a sweet little do-gooder like that—I bet he’ll trip right over himself to make you feel better.” 

That’s part of why Leonard would like to keep his issues as far away from the kid as possible. Barry would fall over himself to help, and he’d just end up hurt. “I’ve been pulling heists. We’ve seen each other since.”

Lisa arches an eyebrow. “And did you tell him about the part where you were worried for him and hope he’s okay?”

“I wasn’t worried,” Leonard scoffs. 

She levels an unimpressed glare on him. “All you would tell me about what happened when that guy had a hold of you was how he triggered Barry, and how Barry was so helpless, and how you wanted to hurt him for touching Barry. I think you were maybe just a little worried.”

It isn’t his fault the kid looks like a good gust of wind could knock him on his ass. Anyone with half a heart would be tempted to take care of him, even if it goes against every other instinct they possess. “All right. Two weeks, the new art opening. I’ll steal you the Klimt you like so much.” 

Lisa sighs ecstatically. _“Judith._ Okay, I can accept that. I get a nice painting, you get some quality time with your little Flash.” 

Two weeks is the bare minimum of time he’ll need to plan a heist like this. There’s no time to sit and wallow in self-pity; he needs to go map entrances and exits. With a perfunctory “Thank you” to Lisa for the motivation, he gets up and goes in search of a map.


	2. Chapter 2

The two weeks between their discussion and the heist go by quickly. Leonard seldom leaves the safe house. Lisa does frequently, and brings back news: a little mischief on the Rogues’ part went unchecked, a structural fire led to an unprecedented number of deaths, and a new meta thief has left the police bamboozled. In short, the Flash is nowhere to be found, and without him, Central City is dissolving into chaos. 

“You’re sure?” Leonard demands. He should be elated—this means no interference in the theft of the Klimt. He doesn’t know whether it says more about him or Barry that he’s horrified by the very thought. 

“Mhmm.” Lisa lounges on the sofa with her legs in the air and her head hanging down. Neither of them is capable of sitting properly; Mick despairs of them. (Leonard points out that Mick never sits in chairs; he almost exclusively perches on counters, which is a feat for a man his size.) “The Flash is gone. No one knows where.”

Something must have happened. It’s unlike Barry to take even a single day off; two weeks is an unheard-of break. “I guess this heist will be the test,” he drawls. Barry never misses a chance to play—Leonard dares to think he enjoys it, or at least gets as high on it as Leonard does. 

Lisa arches an eyebrow, which looks funnier given that she’s upside down. “Not worried, huh?”

“Not worried,” Leonard insists. “I’ll just get bored if something happened to him. Who’s going to chase me then?” 

Lisa makes an unhappy noise. “Ow. Don’t roll your eyes while you’re upside down. It doesn’t feel nice at all.” 

It’s Leonard’s turn to arch an eyebrow. “Duly noted. You could try sitting up straight.”

“Lenny.” She swings upright with a pouty huff. “I can’t do anything straight. It’s bad for my look.”

He can hardly mock her for this when, in fact, he feels the same way. Instead, he sighs, rolls up the map, and proclaims, “Shall I tell Barry you said hi?”

“Yes,” Lisa says without missing a beat. Leonard doesn’t know why he asks. 

The heist goes off without a hitch, which means something is dreadfully amiss. Normally, even with Leonard’s caution, Barry is there within three minutes. This time, when Leonard is in and out in four (and eighteen seconds), Barry should have been there. He’s nowhere to be seen. 

After whisking the Klimt away to a safe location, Leonard meets back up with Lisa. “He didn’t show,” he pronounces. “Which means Judith is safely yours.”

Lisa turns away from her card game with Mick. “He didn’t show? Are you worried _now,_ Lenny?” 

Yes. Yes, he is. It’s unbecoming to admit that he’s worried about his nemesis, however small and cute and otherwise endearing that nemesis might be. Instead, he grumbles, “I was counting on a challenge tonight.”

“Yeah, so was I.” Mick sneaks a peek at Lisa’s cards. Without looking, she swats him over the head with them. 

“So what now, Lenny?”

What now indeed. Leonard supposes there’s only one thing to do: find the Flash before the city suffers. As Barry once pointed out, there will be no one to rob if metas destroy the city—and anyway, even barring meta-catastrophes, it’s no fun pulling heists without the Flash there to make it a challenge. “I guess my next heist involves stealing back the Flash from wherever he went.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the tags come into play. The Trickster gets hold of Barry, uses the trigger phrase from his earlier brainwashing, and tortures him while he's unable to fight back. It's not extremely graphic, but there's blood and a knife involved.

As with any heist, Leonard researches thoroughly. The last time anyone saw Barry was during a fight with the Trickster; after that, he disappeared. This doesn’t necessarily indicate the Trickster’s involvement, but it makes it seem likely. Knowing James Jesse only makes Leonard more suspicious. After a week of putting out careful feelers with as many of his underworld associates as will speak to him, Leonard braves the Trickster’s lair. 

Leonard would never claim to have morals—that seems a bit strong a word—but he lives by a code. The Trickster does no such thing, and it’s never more evident than in his associates. Entering his factory-hideout makes Leonard feel unclean by association. Nevertheless, he has pretenses to maintain, so he pastes an appropriately neutral expression on his face and mingles. This isn’t his first time here, and it won’t be his last; he knows how to work this crowd just like any other. 

His familiarity with the Trickster, as grudging as it is, helps him notice the change in atmosphere in the grungy hideout. There’s excitement in the air—cheers and taunts drift over from what looks like a carnival attraction. Leonard shoulders his way through the crowd and has to stop before he’s physically ill. In the center of the crowd, strapped to a brightly-painted wooden platform and staring blankly into space, is Barry. He’s been stripped of his Flash suit; in its place, a crude drawing of a lightning bolt covers his chest. Blood streaks his skin and puddles at his feet. 

“Leonard, my boy!” James Jesse booms a warm welcome. Leonard forces a smile. In all the times he’s come here, he hasn’t been able to determine whether Jesse genuinely likes him or knows how little Leonard thinks of him and enjoys watching him try to hide it. “I didn’t expect you!” 

“As it happens, I came looking for information about the Flash.” He nods at Barry. As he watches, one of Jesse’s followers carves the lightning bolt into Barry’s chest. Leonard fights not to gag. This is unnecessary. In no world should anyone be tortured thus, especially not such a sweet little hero. “I guess I found him.”

Jesse beams. “Brilliant, isn’t it? Here, let me—shoo along, shoo along!” He dismisses the crowd with a wave of his hand. Once they disperse, he walks to the platform, unbuckles the straps around Barry’s wrists and ankles, and watches him drop to the floor. “Stand up now. There’s a boy.”

Barry stands up. The skin on his chest is already healing. Blood still seeps from the open wound, trickling slowly down his belly and staining the waistband of his briefs. 

“What happened to him?” Leonard asks, although he knows full well. Barry never took the time to have his trigger phrase removed. Jesse found out and used it against him. 

“Well, I heard through the grapevine that the Flash had a bit of an oopsy and got himself brainwashed,” Jesse proclaims with a grin. “And lo and behold, it’s true! A single sentence and he’s as obedient as you could ever want. Watch this.” He turns to Barry and says, “When I tell you to, I want you to wake up. When you do, you won’t be able to run or fight back. Now, wake up!” 

Barry’s eyes flutter. It takes a second for him to register what’s happening. As soon as he does, he staggers away. One hand flies to his wounded chest; the other points accusatorily at Jesse. “You—what did you do to me? _What did you do?”_

“Don’t you wish you knew, little one.” Jesse grins. 

Barry notices Leonard for the first time. The change in his expression is horrific. “Snart, you—you’re in on this too? You, oh God, you must have told him, you told him about what happened, how could you do that? I trusted you and you—”

“Shh.” Jesse taps a finger in the center of Barry’s brow. “You’re just a doll.”

The light in Barry’s eyes gutters out. His hands fall back to his side and he stands utterly still, once again docile and obedient. As Leonard watches, the wound on his chest scabs over, leaving a rough maroon scar of a lightning bolt over his sternum. 

“Wonderful, isn’t it?” Jesse asks, clearly expecting a ‘yes.’ “My very own pet Flash, able to run any errand I tell him. And better yet, he heals quickly, so everyone can take out their anger for all the times he’s ruined their plans without damaging him too much to run!” 

Leonard can barely breathe. All he can think is how helpless Barry must feel, locked in his head and forced to take so much gleeful abuse. One hand drops to his cold gun—men like Jesse don’t deserve to live—but before he can draw, molten gold encases Jesse’s right hand. He shrieks, a horrible, high-pitched, mangled noise that draws the attention of his minions. 

“I’ve had to listen to one abusive criminal bastard gloat about what a great man he thought he was.” Lisa strides across the room, her gold gun aimed squarely at Jesse’s face. “I sure as hell won’t tolerate another.”

“Hey, Lise.” Leonard hates how weak his voice sounds. He shouldn’t be this affected. He survives by keeping his cool—letting Jesse get to him is decidedly not a Captain Cold-like thing to do. 

“You know.” Lisa keeps her gun trained on Jesse’s head. “I talked to Axel—your child. Remember? And believe me when I say I am no less motivated to kill you after that little heart-to-heart.” 

Jesse snarls. “You can’t bedazzle me! If you do, you’ll never have a moment’s peace in this city. You won’t last a week!” 

Lisa tilts her head and pretends to think about it. Leonard knows her answer before she speaks; he would have the same one. “I’ll take my chances.”

On some strange, uncharacteristic instinct, Leonard shields Barry so he doesn’t see Lisa gild the Trickster. He ought to wake the kid, but the last thing he wants is for Barry to panic. Best get him somewhere safe, wake him, and help him make sense of what’s happened. 

“Come on, Flash.” He takes the kid by the hand and guides him to the door. Barry trails obediently behind him. “Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no torture in this chapter, but Barry has to deal with the aftermath of being tortured and starved - there's food issues and a panic attack.

Leonard wakes Barry when they reach one of his lesser-used safehouses. He’s no expert in deprogramming, so he doesn’t give the kid any orders; whatever Jesse put in his head is Hartley’s job to undo. It’s heartbreaking to watch Barry wake, all confused fluttery eyes, and to watch memories of the last few weeks filter back to him. 

“Easy.” Leonard gives the kid plenty of space. The last thing he would want after waking from a Trickster-induced trance is someone too close; no doubt Barry feels the same way. “You’re safe now. The Trickster can’t hurt you anymore.”

“Like you care!” Barry hunkers against the arm of the sofa. Leonard wonders why he doesn’t run until he notices the unusual prominence of the kid’s ribs and the sickly thinness of his belly. He might not have the energy. “You gave him the trigger phrase, didn’t you, nobody else knew it—” 

Leonard shakes his head. He understands where Barry might draw that conclusion, but it’s wrong. “I didn’t tell him, Scarlet—I wouldn’t. Seeing you hurt like that—seeing _anyone_ hurt like that—makes me sick. I think he heard the trigger phrase directly from the dollmaker. There are go-betweens into Iron Heights.” 

Barry relaxes in increments. “You…you mean that.” He glances at Lisa, who’s watching with crossed arms and a guarded expression. “You got me out. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course we did.” Lisa’s voice is whipcrack-sharp. “We don’t tolerate that kind of abuse.”

Barry flinches—from the phrasing or the bluntness of her tone, Leonard can’t tell. Over the next minute or so, memories of the Trickster’s torture filter back to him. As they do, he curls in on himself and starts to tremble. “I…I, oh God, he did that. He did—he _did that._ Why would he—what did I do to make him—”

Without thinking, Leonard pulls the kid into his arms. He expects Barry to recoil, much the way he would if faced with an unwanted embrace. Instead, Barry curls into his embrace, clings to him, and lets out a ragged sob. 

“Hurts, it hurts, it hurts so much, I don’t understand, I don’t…”

“Shh.” Leonard doesn’t know what to do now. He settles for rubbing his hand over Barry’s bare, heaving back. He can feel the ridges of the kid’s spine—of course Jesse starved him, why wouldn’t he? “It’s over now. He’s never going to touch you again.” 

Leonard holds the kid until his sobs quiet to sniffles and his trembling dies away. He hasn’t comforted anyone like this in years, but the muscle memory is there—embrace, squeeze, gently rock. What worked with little Lisa works equally well with Barry; the kid turns soft and pliant, almost sleepy, when his tears subside. 

“Easy,” Leonard soothes. “You’re safe.” 

Barry nods. It doesn’t seem to cross his mind to question his safety in a criminal’s hideout. It’s unwise and dangerous but correct; Leonard would never hurt him while he’s so helpless and vulnerable. 

“I should go,” he murmurs. “Cisco and Caitlin are probably worried sick.”

“No, little hero.” Lisa reaches over to pet his hair. Barry curls into her touch without hesitation. “You can’t go yet. Mick is in the kitchen making broth—let’s get some food into you before we send you off.”

There is, to Leonard’s surprise, no question of the suitability of the soup for consumption. Barry downs it in greedy gulps as though it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. Mick looks on with something vaguely akin to fondness; Leonard sits beside the kid and keeps a hand in the small of his back to soothe him. Lisa hovers, occasionally running her fingers through Barry's matted, bloody hair. 

“I should go,” Barry sighs upon finishing the soup. He sets the bowl aside and gazes wistfully at it. No doubt he wants a second helping, but after close to three weeks with inadequate food, Leonard doesn’t want to shock his system. “I just…I don’t think I’ll be able to run.” 

“I’ll drive you,” Leonard offers. “That way, I can make sure Hartley deprograms you this time.” This is said with a glare. Barry huddles in on himself. 

“Don’t blame Hartley. It’s my fault, I wouldn’t take the time—”

Leonard figured it was something like that. “I don’t. I figured you didn’t let him, and this time, I won’t let you avoid him.”

“You don’t have to tell me it was my fault.” The kid shudders. “I know, okay? I learned my lesson. Just…don’t.” 

Lisa glares a reproach at Leonard, steps closer, and wraps her arm around Barry’s shoulders. “What happened wasn’t your fault,” she murmurs. “That sick bastard hurt you because he’s a hateful little man with hateful little thoughts. If not the trigger phrase, it would have been blackmail, or some kind of foul device designed specifically to hurt you.”

Barry gazes up at her with wide, desperate eyes, hanging on her every word. Leonard, for no reason he can discern, feels a twinge of jealousy. 

“Come on,” he says. “I’ll drive you.”

This involves bundling the kid in borrowed clothing and loading him into the sidecar on Leonard’s motorcycle. He makes a particularly precious sight because of how huge Leonard’s sweater is on him; add to that the cramped confines of the sidecar, and he looks like a child dressed in his father’s clothes. Mick makes him a thermos of soup for the ride. Lisa sees him off with gentle words and a kiss on the brow. 

“Take care of yourself, cutie.” 

Then they’re on the road. The wind whips away the possibility of conversation; Leonard makes do by glancing at Barry periodically. The kid looks so delicate that Leonard fears the acceleration will shatter him. By the time they stop in the STAR Labs parking lot, Barry is barely responsive. 

“Come on, Scarlet.” Leonard has to help the kid to his feet. Barry clings and shivers until Leonard scoops him up bridal-style and carries him to the door. “Almost there.”

The moment they get into STAR Labs, they’re swarmed by well-meaning but demanding do-gooders. Caitlin hustles them into the medbay; Leonard lays Barry on the cot and means to stay with him, but Caitlin bustles around in a panic over Barry’s malnourished state and it’s clear that he’s just underfoot. Instead, he retreats into the Cortex, where he’s greeted with cautious warmth by Hartley. 

“You found him.” Hartley goes up on tiptoe to glimpse Barry’s too-thin form. “We tried to track his suit, but it ended up in the river.”

“James Jesse found out his trigger phrase from the dollmaker,” Leonard explains curtly. Hartley curses. 

“Of course he did. I told Barry he was putting himself in unnecessary danger by not letting me remove it immediately, but he insisted he was fine. Rather like someone else I know.” This is said pointedly and emphasized with a glower. 

“Not everyone is as at ease with mind control as you are,” Leonard snaps. “I let you deprogram me, didn’t I?”

“Ha, you’re funny.” Hartley folds his arms protectively over his chest. “I wouldn’t be at ease with mind control if it was done to me. Controlling you, on the other hand—that I can do.” 

They stand in silence and watch Caitlin start an IV. Presently, Leonard asks, “Do you think they’ll let me see him?”

Hartley shoots him a sideways glance and a crooked smile. Unlike the rest of Team Flash, he knows the bizarre power Barry has to work his way into a bitter heart. “He has that effect on people, doesn’t he?” 

Leonard isn’t going to dignify that with an answer. “Deprogram him as soon as Caitlin lets you. Ideally while he’s still on an IV and can’t run away.”

“Yessir,” Hartley says playfully. “You won’t stay?”

No. It’s one thing to admit to himself that he’s developed a soft spot for the kid; it’s another to make it obvious for the whole of Team Flash to see. “Mick’s probably burnt down the safehouse in my absence.”

“Ah,” Hartley says knowingly. He hears what Leonard won’t say aloud, of course—damn him for that. “I’ll pass along your best wishes to Barry.”

“Fuck off, Piper.” There’s no heat behind it. Leonard can’t deny that he wishes Barry well and that, in a better world, he would want to pass along those wishes himself. Instead of lingering in the vain hope that this could be that better world, he hastens out the door. If, in a week or two when Barry is likely to feel better, he happens to pull a heist to catch up with the kid, that’s nobody’s business but his own.


End file.
